This is a brilliant example of the kind of competently lifeless drama that keeps patrons pushing their prams down to the cinema. A truly pedestrian marathon of tedium with all the catharthis of a silent fart in a vacuum.

Even a remarkably strong cast can not save this production from forgetting the fundamental rule of theatre - that the audience needs to care what happens. Aging beauty Blanche (Elisabeth Gray) has been forced to leave her hometown having lost the family estate and her reputation. She moves in with sister Stella (Victoria Ross) in New Orleans, who lives with her abusive husband Stanley (Michael Lesslie). There, the emotionally fragile Blanche spins lies to cover her scandals, and to further a romance with lonely Mitch (Edward Archibald). As her true past comes out, Blanche becomes the only person to believe that what she is saying is true

It's not that the acting is bad - it's actually very good. And the set design does not fall short of the magic to be expected from Martin Thomas (Blasted, Europe). There's just no dynamic, no driving question, and no heart to this performance. The rare moments of action explode out of nothing and disappear just as quickly and it is impossible to care about any of the characters.

The programme notes offer us the interpretative choices that Williams has provided: "Blanche can come across as an irritating manipulative snob" or as "the play's only defender of morality and culture". Stanley can be "an heroic example of a self-made man" or simply "a violent brute" and so on. In each case the positive character note, the one that would give us empathy and the play its means of communication across the stages, ages and oceans, is woefully neglected. Blanche is a snob, Stanley is a brute and Stella is allowed all the charismatic bravery of a pregnant potato. It's as two-dimensional as that. Whether it is the fault of the direction, or the lack of it, what we have here is a three-hour cartoon where you can't even be bothered to root for the baddies because there simply aren't any goodies.

On the other hand, Alistair Putt's soundtrack is masterfully composed. Providing a welcome accompaniment to most of the show, it has a similarly ironic charm to the beautiful pastel-coloured set. The lighting too is great, the space is cleverly used and as a series of set-pieces and audition monologues, it's a show-stopper. As an actual show, however, as a story, it never really gets going.

If you think theatre is to be taken in doses, then this may well be your panacea. Otherwise try getting a flu jab. It's quicker, less painful and at least the needle has a point.

Daniel James